


It's OK

by KittyViolet



Category: New Mutants (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Breastfeeding, Coming In Pants, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 17:19:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21341872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyViolet/pseuds/KittyViolet
Summary: Right after the end of New Mutants vol. 3, if you're keeping track. Dani's been de-powered since M-Day but has her Valkyrie abilities back. Feedback much appreciated!
Relationships: Roberto da Costa/Danielle Moonstar, Roberto da Costa/Sam Guthrie
Kudos: 5





	It's OK

**Author's Note:**

> Right after the end of New Mutants vol. 3, if you're keeping track. Dani's been de-powered since M-Day but has her Valkyrie abilities back. Feedback much appreciated!

Sam comes very close to knocking over the backyard grill, halting suddenly, jarringly, at the house’s back door. It’s the house where the New Mutants live, in San Francisco. Not long ago they reprogrammed a technarch, prevented a terrible future, and brought one another literally through Hell. Now they’re chilling. Or they were.

“He’s really hurt!” Sam yells. Dani comes running downstairs. Her tied bathrobe flaps behind her; she’s just bound her hair back into those signature braids. She’s just taken a shower, Sam realizes. His shirttails flutter as she lets him in and he walks inside. The young man he’s holding in his arms—the young man he brought here— breathes in, breathes out, slow, ragged, uneasy, as Sam deposits him carefully on a couch.

“Berto,” Dani says. His oak-dark skin shows bruises, scratches, strains. There’s no Valkyrie vision over his head: he won’t die, or not from the beating he just took, but he’s in awful shape. “What happened?”

“Purifiers. Thought we’d seen the last of them, but this lot just came from behind when him an’ me were gettin’ cappuccinos.” How you’ve changed since we first met, Dani thinks. Cappucinos. What’s next, Italian lessons? 

But Sam doesn’t know Dani knows that Berto will survive: and he’s still in pain, if he’s conscious. She needs to focus on Sunspot, who isn’t exactly radiant, or strong, or able to stand, or able to do much more than flutter his eyelids right now. No. He’s opening them. “Dani?” he asks weakly.

She settles in next to Roberto on the couch. “You’ll feel better if you rest and then get some sunlight to recharge. Just—stay here with me now, OK?”

Sam’s in the chair with the old cushions near the back door, which he closes along with the curtains. Sun through them seems to tousle his short hair. He’s looking at his wounded, barely-conscious teammate with intense concern.

“Dani?” he says again. “Did we beat them?”

“We whupped them,” Sam says, confidently. “You ran outta solar strength after you took down the one with the big machine, but ah took out the rest—just knocked ‘em down like ninepins. Ah blasted right into ‘em.”

Berto smiles. “I’m hurt though. What do I need?”

“You need time,” Dani says, and she thinks maybe he needs some comforting images too. If only she could project them! If she still had her full powers… But she knows him well enough to guess what she can do for him without those powers. She moves her seated body closer to his reclining one and sees him curl up, first away from her, and then against her. They’ve never been this intimate—not this physically intimate—before. He’s still in his torn-up costume. His head’s on her shoulder. The bit of sunlight in the room, and the calm and the sense of safety, might be healing him already.

“Mostly exhaustion, maybe,” she says, looking right at Sam. “He’s really worn out from overusing his powers. But they come back. Especially if there’s even a bit of sunlight around.” Through the windows and the curtains there certainly is. But Berto isn’t exactly sitting up; he’s moving closer to her instead. His head’s moving along her shoulder, towards her sternum. He pulls up his knees so they’re both on the couch, then his feet.

Dani’s still got enough residual powers—a bit of empathy, a bit of telepathy, part of the Valkyrie package too—that she can see how he believes he got hurt bad, hurt worse than he did. She’s going to let him stay close to her if that’s what he needs.

“Dani,” he mutters, gazing at her. “I’m lonely. You are my friend. May I--- may I sleep with you?”

He means it literally: Berto wants to go back to sleep while she’s holding him. OK. Sam’s watching: he nods. It’s OK with him, but he’s not going anywhere.

“Psychic disruptors, Dani,” Sam says, and then she realizes: that’s what the Purifiers were using: guns that unsettle you, guns that make you feel broken inside, projecting negative empathy. If she could use her powers on Berto, what would Berto want?

Security. Safety. Warmth. Knowing he’s loved.

He curls and cuddles up so that she’s almost holding him in her lap—she’s taller than he is, but not by very much, and he’s all muscle: he’s heavy, but pleasantly so. He moves his head down a bit, and his eyes close again, and then she knows what he must want. Once she spent the night with a girl who wanted the same thing. It’s a sign of trust, she thinks, and so she opens her bathrobe and lets him dry-suckle her, placing his palm on her left nipple, playing her right nipple with his tongue and then latching on, his face relaxing into what—if her nipple weren’t in his mouth—would be a fine smile.

They stay like that for minutes, more minutes, more, Roberto curled up on the couch and suckling Dani, who just sits there as he heals, with Sam across the room watching them both. Sam’s smiling. Dani barely sees: mostly her eyes are closed. They can all feel him getting better, recovering from the psychic damage, healing his wounds—slowly—in the afternoon sun. His limbs seem to tauten, to stiffen, as he gains strength from the skin-to-skin, mouth-to-nipple connection, quietly.

Something else gets stiffer too.

Sam smiles and makes a coughing noise and then Dani opens her eyes. Not-quite-asleep, suckling, no-longer-wounded Roberto is definitely excited by what they’re doing, so excited that he’s changing shape, stretching his uniform out between his legs, opening his eyes to look up at her while she looks down at what’s happening.

“Mmmmmm,” he says. “Mmmmm.” He moves his free hand down so that it rests on his thigh, almost but not quite touching his hardness through his uniform. He doesn’t want to take his lips away from Dani’s nipple unless he has to, but he’s awake enough, recovered enough, to want to ask permission. He opens his eyes wide and looks at her.

She nods. “Go ahead, Roberto,” she says, and he sucks on her harder and harder, but without biting—he’s careful even now—and she puts her free hand between his thighs, on his hand, then under his hand, and then carefully lifts him up so his butt’s not crushing her thigh, and he sucks hard, so hard he almost weeps, and he gets hard, without touching himself again, and it’s like he’s having a wet dream, except that his eyes are open, he’s just so comfortable there with her, enmeshed in his friend Dani, suckling, sucking, suckling, and then he comes, fast, voluminously, soaking her hand, his hand, his fast-drying black uniform pants, which turn improbably shiny as they take in all that fluid.

“Oh, brave Roberto,” Dani says. “You’ve had—“ She wants to say that he’s had a wet dream, but he’s definitely awake, and he’s turning his head instead of closing his eyes, because he’s looking at Sam, who has definitely been watching everything.

And not only with his eyes. He’s wearing street clothes, not costume, and so the denim over his fly has kept his erection in check, but when he sees his best friend come, he gapes, he tilts his head back, he reaches across the floor for Roberto’s hand, he gets on his knees, he says “Dani… Roberto…. Dani…. Roberto….”

And Dani has her free hand between her own legs now, she’s probably not going to come but she’s enjoying the pleasure she sees in her friends, who come in ways that she can’t, not quite, not now, and she says “You’re safe here, you’re so safe here,” quietly to Roberto, who closes his dark eyelids again and burrows his darker cheeks into her bathrobe. His bruises are gone. He’s just curled up on her, spent, slack, soon to recharge.

To Sam, who is kneeling for her now, she says “You can be a rocket for me, show me how you’re our rocket, you can protect us,” and Sam, aware of the comedy even as he’s achingly, deeply, fully turned on, says “When I’m blastin’” and he has barely moved his hand to his own dick before, through the jeans, he’s coming, this time thickly, deeply, making the front of his fly moist even as Dani imagines the rest of it running down his pants, getting caught in those blond curls he must have, staying humid in silver droplets in his crotch. 

He bucks back and forth, surprised by his own body's response to Berto, to Dani, to Berto and Dani together, to Berto sucking on Dani's breast, to Berto cuddling up, to Berto coming almost without trying, in his pants, in her hand, with her. With her and with him. The thought of the three of them together again makes him thrust again, into the air, no, into his hand on top of his jeans, facing Dani and Berto, all his clothes still on. Seeing Berto get better this way, seeing him so happy, makes Sam... lets Sam... his thighs and back go taut so that they can let his energy go where he wants it to go, towards his friends and then into his pants. 

He’s still coming; there’s just so much of it. He's so happy. So is Dani. When’s the last time he….?

Dani smiles and won’t complete the thought in her own mind. Instead she just smiles back at him. It’s OK, Sam, you saved your friend again, you can stay here, your feelings are good with me. It’s OK, Roberto, you're OK. Everything’s OK.


End file.
